


The stone that looked like a dog

by Deputychairman



Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Post-Call of the Wild, Romance, and it's especially difficult to keep a clear head, and then everybody's parents turn up, relationships are hard, when you are having a lot of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-10 07:57:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deputychairman/pseuds/Deputychairman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You do like dog sledding.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I like it fine, but I will be honest with you here. I did not emigrate to Canada for the dogsledding, Fraser. It was a nice bonus, I grant you, but I’m here for - ” Ray paused, gaze firmly in front of him. “I’m here ‘cause a you, y’know. Which I did not in so many words tell my parents, no.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story would have crawled away to die alone and be eaten by cats if it weren't for Seascribe. If you like it, thank her; if you don't, blame me.

 

It wasn’t eavesdropping. Not when Ray had gone to answer the phone and then come right back into the living room, to pace unignorably right in front of him. Oh, Ben had _tried_ to ignore him, but every time he turned back to his book Ray came right back through his peripheral vision until he had no choice but to watch him.

And if he was being honest with himself, the book that could compete with Ray Kowalski for his attention had not yet been written, nor was it ever likely to be. Of course that wasn’t the sort of thing he should admit to Ray, so he kept up the charade for a few moments. But it was a lost cause - Ray kept looking over at him, with a mute question he couldn’t quite decipher, as if he was inviting Ben to listen to his half of the conversation. He didn’t need to be able to hear Ray’s mother on the other end to get the gist of it – Ray’s reactions were telegraphing that loud and clear. He was pacing, head bowed and showing the vulnerable nape of his neck; he kept smiling, and he was saying, “No, that’d be great, mom. That’d be really great. If you’re sure it ain’t too far to come, I mean, we’re a long way north here, and – yeah, I know, yeah, ok – oh, well you gotta multiply by five eighths…”

Even if Ben hadn’t spent the last six months studying Ray’s responses to a range of emotional stimuli (and physical stimuli, oh _god_ the physical stimuli – like the sound Ray made when he was sprawled face down on the bed, and Ben had sunk his teeth oh-so gently into the very top of his inner thigh – but he couldn’t get distracted thinking about that now), it would have been clear to anyone what was being said: Ray’s parents were coming to visit.

Ben kept a tight control on his own reaction: the pit that seemed to have opened in his stomach, the urge to join Ray in pacing the room. He had been expecting _something_ to happen to disrupt the bubble they were living in, but this particular scenario had not occurred to him - it had seemed more likely that Ray would grow weary of the town; the lack of excitement in his work; the relentlessness of the coming winter. His own intransigence, even: Ray had already told him he was not an easy man to live with, and he didn’t doubt it. So far disagreements had been negotiated around and arguments made up - often passionately and in bed (and once on the floor - he still had the fading rug burn on his knees). Marvellously succinct though the method was, he knew the novelty was bound to wear off, for Ray if not for him. He was under no illusion that Ray, with a 12 year marriage behind him, hadn’t had a lot more time to get used to the thrill of sex than he had. So far Ray seemed happy to indulge him  –  was the instigator, as often as not, approaching each encounter with breathtaking abandon as if there was nothing in the world he would rather be doing than making Ben fall apart in his arms. But that would hardly keep him in Canada indefinitely; the arrival of his parents might hasten such a realisation, but that was hardly their fault. Ben would just have to make an effort and be a civil host to them all the same. With a couple of days to get used to the idea, he should be able to suppress this selfish sense of dread creeping over him.

For now, though, all he could do was make sure none of those feelings showed on his face – Ray was certainly perceptive, but he wasn’t a _mind reader,_ after all.

 

Although once, in Chicago, before they were – whatever they were, he had looked hard at Frannie as she walked away in a particularly tiny shirt, and Ben had finally taken a step out of the corner she’d backed him into, and Ray said:

“You really don’t like it when people do that, huh?”

He’d said, “Do what, Ray?” even though it was perfectly obvious and they both knew it.

Ray’s hard look turned on him. “That. Stand real close and talk to you – like that. You get that look on your face.”

“That look?”

“Yeah, that _look_.” Ray repeated, as Ben did a different _look_ : one with eyebrows raised in polite interest, and that Ray understood perhaps too well. “Ok, you don’t wanna talk about it, right, got it, sorry...”

Ben let out a deep breath and forced himself not to fiddle with his hat. Ray wasn’t – Ray was – his friend, wasn’t he?

“I believe Francesca once described me as looking like a squirrel in the headlights,” he said. But Ray didn’t laugh like he expected. Instead he took a step back and studied Ben’s face as if he was looking for evidence.

“Yeah. Squirrel in the headlights,” he said seriously.

Ben looked back at him and then all of a sudden they had been looking at each other for too long.

Ray shook his head like a dog coming out of water and said, “Well, I got your back, buddy.”

His voice still held no hint of laughter, and Ben wasn’t quite sure what he meant.

 

And he couldn’t remember _that_ conversation without remembering a campfire outside Buck Frobisher’s outpost, where he had been telling Ray the route they could take if he really did want the two of them to go on an adventure. He was aware he was possibly romanticising the thing, but he couldn’t seem to make himself stop.

Ray glanced over at him then looked back to the fire.

“Yeah, I wanna go on an adventure with you. I do – you have no idea how much. But look, I – shit…” he took a deep breath. “I gotta tell you something first, Frase – I can’t do sleeping next to you in a little tent, if…”

Then he didn’t say anything, but turned to face him and Ben realised they were sitting very close together. Did they always sit this close? Perhaps they did; he hadn’t thought anything of it until Ray turned to him. Ray put one hand out, very slowly, and touched his wrist.

“Fraser…” he said.

And the world just stopped. No sound, nothing moved, just a sunburst in his head. Ray’s face twisted and he took his hand away.

“Okaaaay, squirrel in the headlights – it’s cool, don’t worry about it…”

Everything came back to life with a jolt of adrenaline and a thump of his heart that he felt in his whole body. He grasped at Ray, feeling his own pulse beat right down to his fingers.

“What…” his voice wasn’t working properly. He cleared his throat and tried again. “What were you going to say, Ray?”

“You know what I was gonna say, don’t you?”

Fraser nodded. He realised that he did know; he’d known for a while. Why else was he inviting Ray to come on an adventure to the middle of nowhere with him? Why else would Ray _want_ to, for God’s sake?

“You want me to say it?” Ray was looking right into his eyes. Ray was _right there_.

Ben nodded again and heard Ray take a deep breath.

“Uh, I -- I think we got a thing here, Fraser. You and me – it feels like a thing. Does this feel like a thing to you?”

Ben nodded and Ray continued,

“Because I got some feelings for you, Fraser. I mean, I think I – no, I’m pretty fucking sure I…No, look. I just mean, I don’t care where we go now, but I wanna to go with _you_. I gotta go with you. You know?”

Ben just nodded again.

“You understand what I’m saying?” Ray moved closer. “You understand, Frase?”

Utterly tongue-tied, Ben had just tightened his grip on Ray’s arms and nodded like a fool. Ray was still looking at him like he wasn’t at all convinced he did understand and was half expecting to get hit. The naked vulnerability on his face was more than Ben could stand.

“Yes, Ray. I – me too,” he managed.

It all made sense now, like it was inevitable they would end up here, not-quite-saying these things to each other; he was leaning towards Ray without having to consciously decide to do it. His kiss touched the corner of Ray’s mouth, but Ray evidently had no more use for plausible deniability.

He murmured, “Ok then,” and raised a hand to cup Ben’s face. At first the cool touch against his cheekbone seemed almost more intimate than the kiss Ray pressed to his mouth; but as he opened to it, shifting to bring Ray closer, he realised he had always wanted more than this. He wanted Ray’s hands everywhere, his strength - he wanted _everything_ Ray might ever offer.

“Come in the tent with me, Fraser,” Ray whispered against his mouth.

 

Later, when they were as undressed as circumstances would allow, and curled up tightly together, Ben had done better. Not, he would be the first to admit, hugely better; but he had at least progressed beyond nodding and sentence fragments to actual speech, words whispered in the dark into Ray’s hair that didn’t come anywhere near to describing the enormity of what he felt.

 

But Ray always seemed to understand without him having to find the words for it. When the ice started to melt and he ran out of ways to drag their adventure out any longer, Ray had just said:

“That’s cool, that’s no problem. How ‘bout we go somewhere warm where I get to see you naked?”

So Ben steered them to his father’s cabin, where weeks seemed to pass in a wonderful haze of seeing each other naked and barely getting out of bed; and he hadn’t asked when Ray was going back to Chicago.

When Ben’s leave ran out and he finally accepted the post he’d been deferring in Yellowknife, Ray just said:

“Ok, yeah, Yellowknife sounds good. That’s like, a city, right? So you think we can get away with renting a place together?”

So Ben started calling realtors with a foolish smile on his face, and hadn’t asked when Ray was going back to Chicago.

And when Ray got a job with the local youth outreach programme, he just said:

“Welsh says I got a job at the 27 if I want it, but I wanna try something different for a while. See if I can hack it.” He turned to toe off his shoes and asked over his shoulder, “It ok with you if I stick around here?”

So Ben had grabbed hold of him and growled “ _Yes_ ,” into his ear and tumbled him onto the couch. They tussled breathlessly for a moment until he let Ray roll them over and pin his hands above his head.

“That kinda sounds like you meant _hell_ yeah,” he said, his weight pressing intoxicatingly into Ben as he held him down.

“You’re quite right Ray – I stand corrected,” he said, already too turned on to care how husky his voice came out.

“Nah you don’t – you’re flat on your back corrected. Which I’m liking a lot...”

“Is that right? But wouldn’t you like it even more if I were to turn over, for example?”

Ray swallowed and his eyes went dark, his grip tightening on Ben’s wrists.

“Yeah, I would, now that you mention it,” he said thickly. “Good thinking there, Frase.”

So Ben turned over, Ray still fumbling at his pants; and with their still-recent discovery of this particular act firing through all his nerve endings, it was hardly a surprise that he never asked Ray when he was going back to Chicago. Ray was here now; he was – _oh god_ – doing _that_ , and Ben was pushing back urgently, wanting it _now_ ; non-verbal communication was working so perfectly he was going to fall apart from it and he wasn’t going to ruin it with questions he might not like the answers to.

 

                                                                            ***              ***              ***                                     

 

At this precise moment, of course, he was hoping that non-verbal communication wasn’t firing on all cylinders. Ray tossed the phone on to the coffee table and flopped down bonelessly at his side. Which, helpfully, meant Ray was no longer looking him right in the face, where there might or might not be something to read.

“So is that, uh, is that ok with you? If my parents come visit?” Ray asked.

“Of course, Ray,” he said. The forced heartiness of his voice made him wince, and Ray twitched then stilled.

“Ok. Well. They think they’ll get here middle of September. What’s the weather like then anyway? It won’t be snowing yet, right?”

“It’s unlikely. It’s an ideal time to visit the area, in fact; the colours can be quite beautiful. But do they – are they going to stay _here_ , Ray?”

“Dunno, didn’t ask. Yeah, I guess. Or maybe they’ll stay in the RV. They pretty much live in it, so…” Ray scrubbed a hand through his hair leaving it sticking up adorably and Fraser was momentarily distracted.

“Ah. And do they – know about – _"_ he gestured between them, willing Ray to understand. They hadn't put a name on it, and this wasn't the moment to get sidetracked with definitions.

Ray slumped further back into the couch in apparent despair.

“Dunno. I never told them, exactly. But they know I came up here with you, and that we got a place together, so, uh… Maybe they think you’re just my ticket to indulging a new-found love for, for…curling, and…” he seemed to cast around for something suitably improbable and Canadian.

“Canoeing?” offered Ben, immediately feeling that this was not helpful.

“Right. Canoeing. Maple syrup. Dog sledding. All that.” Ray agreed.

“You _do_ like dog sledding.”

“Yeah, I like it fine, but I will be honest with you here. I did not emigrate to Canada for the dogsledding, Fraser. It was a nice bonus, I grant you, but I’m here for - ” Ray paused, gaze firmly in front of him. “I’m here ‘cause a you, y’know. Which I did not in so many words tell my parents, no.”

“Ah.” 

He knew he should say something. Something reassuring; something helpful. But he felt ill-prepared for the challenge: after all, he had never introduced any kind of romantic partner to his father, let alone one for whom he had forsaken country, career and a lifetime of confirmed heterosexuality. (Despite Ray’s private admission that his heterosexuality wasn’t nearly as confirmed as he had lead the world to believe, the world did still believe it.)

Voluntarily broaching the subject with Ray’s parents, then – well.

 “I could sleep at the detachment…” he began, but Ray didn’t let him get any further.

“What? No!” he snapped, surging up from his slump and glaring at Ben. “How many kinds of chickenshit do you think I am? This is not highschool – I am 37 years old, we are not gonna sneak you out the house!”

“I really wouldn’t mind, if you’d rather they didn’t know…” He wondered as he said it if this were strictly true, but Ray saved him from having to reach a conclusion by rejecting the idea out of hand.

“Who says I’d rather they didn’t know? I don’t want you to sleep somewhere else; the whole point of being here is to –”  he broke off abruptly, his gaze flicking across to Ben and immediately away. “Look. They already know we’re roommates anyway, so just forget about that, will ya? We’ll just…” he stopped again, apparently frustrated by his inability to move from what they _wouldn’t_ do to what they _would_ do.

“Play it by ear?” Ben offered, feeling that this was more helpful than the canoe.

“Yeah. Right.” Ray agreed in relief. “They mighta already worked it out, you know? They probably have. And if they haven’t, they’ll get there on their own, right? ‘Cause it’s not that I don’t want them to know, ok?  I just gotta work out how to tell ’em. No awkward silences where they’re sitting there, thinking about my sex life.”

Ben nodded encouragingly and resolutely didn’t think about Ray’s sex life. Especially not the way he looked braced above him, mouth open and –

Ray continued, “I mean, there’s no need to sit ’em down for a big talk. Unless they really don’t get it, and then…”

“And then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Ben supplied. Which was not avoiding the issue, not by any means; it was merely leaving a degree of flexibility to their plans. And flexible planning was a _good_ thing, surely?

“Yeah. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Ray echoed.

There was a small pause.

“But if you change your mind, it really would be no trouble for me to sleep –”

And Ray said quietly, “Look, if, uh, if you don’t wanna be here when they come – I mean that’s cool, I understand that – other people’s parents can freak anybody out, nobody needs that…”

“Ray, I’m not _freaked out_!”

“…or – I mean, if you want me to keep all this quiet, not tell ’em if they haven’t guessed…”

As soon as Ray said it he realised that was precisely what he wanted: if Ray didn’t tell them, they wouldn’t have to react, and Ray wouldn’t –

“They’re your parents, Ray. It’s entirely up to you,” he said, feeling like a coward as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

But having seen Ray accept such a radical change in his romantic orientation; seen him give up his home and his job, he couldn’t help thinking it was too much to expect him to risk a recent rapprochement with his parents on top of all that. Ray was bound to come to his senses at some point, and realise he had left career and respectability behind in favour of – what? A rented house on the outskirts of a small Canadian town, and Ben. Much as he wanted Ray to be happy – wanted to _make_ Ray happy – the task frankly seemed beyond him when weighed against everything Ray had given up. For him to also sacrifice the regard of his parents, therefore, was clearly more than any man should ask of another.

“Did your dad know? About you?” Ray asked. And that was an interesting question, wasn’t it? One that Ben had never satisfactorily resolved. He began:

“Well I certainly never _told_ him, but he – ”

And really, what _had_ his father concluded about Ben’s inclinations? As far as he could recall, he had never had any kind of conversation about his emotional life with his father while he was alive. Certainly after his death Robert Fraser had seen fit to offer advice on an array of improbable candidates, but that wasn’t the same thing at all.

His meandering advice regarding Ray Kowalski had conflated Buck Frobisher and Caroline Fraser; partnership and marriage; as if on some level he appreciated that his son’s feelings for _the_ _Yank_ ran deeper than the professional or the merely friendly. On the other hand, since most of Robert Fraser’s adult life had been spent alone in the far north, perhaps Buck and his wife were the only relationships he had to draw on as a source of advice for his son, and he was simply over-analysing things. Besides of which, he was more than half convinced his father’s apparitions had all been the product of his own mind anyway, so what did that prove about anything other than that Ray might well be better off with somebody else? But he pushed that thought aside.

“I don’t really know, actually Ray. Probably not. We didn’t see each other often. I doubt he would have brought it up, even if he had guessed. We didn’t – you know. Talk about that sort of thing. And there wasn’t much for me to tell him, before you…”

Ray smiled at that. “Would you have told him, about me? If he was still alive?” he asked, darting a look at Ben then appearing fascinated by the seam of his own jeans as if eye-contact would have put unfair pressure on Ben to reveal something he might not wish to. The question made him oddly uncomfortable, but he owed Ray some kind of answer.

“I don’t know, Ray. Yes, I suppose I would have,” he said. “I don’t know how he would have reacted, but he was notable in his absence for long periods of my life, so any disapproval would have been fairly theoretical in nature, and from a long way away, so…”

Ray flashed another smile at him. “Yeah, well, same.” He paused. “So y’know, I’m not gonna worry about it.”

“You’re quite right. Me neither.”

They sat side-by-side on the couch, both focused on the coffee table in front of them. Ben couldn’t help but feel that neither of them was totally convincing in his role as a man not worrying about anything.

Ray turned to him.

“You know what we should do?”

“What, Ray?”

“We should fuck on the couch while we still can. Can’t do that sorta thing with anyone’s parents around, right?”

This was such an obviously good idea that Ben could only smile helplessly at him and say, “I think that’s an excellent idea, Ray,” as Ray pushed him back on the cushions.

Ray insisted on pulling him out of all his clothes – “Because we can, Ben. I like seeing you,” – and unselfconsciously shed his own before pushing Ben down on to the couch. And then if the feel of Ray’s skin, and Ray’s whole body pressed against his, and the thought of losing this, made him respond with even more intensity than usual; well, he hid his face as he came, and he was fairly sure Ray was too distracted by his own pleasure to notice.

As they lay there together afterwards, Ray plastered against his back and holding on to him tightly to keep him from falling off the couch, Ray said,

“I hope they’re cool with this, but you know it don’t matter it they’re not, right?”

Ray’s voice was very soft in his ear and Ray squeezed him a little tighter.

“I mean, I’m not gonna…change my mind or nothing, whatever happens, ok? Just so you know.”

“Ok, Ray,” he said.

 

* * *

 

 While they washed dishes the night before Ray’s parents arrived, Ben asked him:

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather I slept at the detachment? I was just thinking, suppose they don’t already know, and I somehow – inadvertently – reveal the nature of…”

Ray looked at him. “That we’re fucking?”

He cleared his throat and tried not to react to the thrill those words still gave him.

“As you say.”

“Why, what do you think you’re gonna say to tip them off? Oh, let me show you the musk ox migration trail, Mr and Mrs Kowalski, and by the way Ray gives the best blowjobs on the north American continent?”

“Ah, no. I probably wouldn’t say that.”

“But you’re not denying it’s true.”

“Well, although I can’t empirically vouch for the statement, I do feel it is emotionally true, yes Ray. Besides, as the principal recipient of your skills it would be profoundly ungrateful of me to argue with your self-assessment, wouldn’t it?”

Given how Ray was looking at him, he was pleased how long he managed to stretch that sentence without tripping over it. But Ray enjoyed teasing him so much that it was always worth the effort to bring out the long words.

“ _Principal_ recipient? You mean you think there are other, like, secondary recipients out there or something? Considering how often I do it with you, and the size of this town, you think I might’ve gone out and found _another_ recipient?”

Ray had let his dish slide back into the water and was looking at Ben with a smile that said, c’mon buddy, whatcha got for me?”

“Well, it seemed presumptuous to simply assume that…” Ben was less sure he could steer this sentence to a satisfactory conclusion: he had to pause and lick his lip in the hope that the end of the clause would come to him. “Ah, that is – no, of course I _hoped_ that – and for my part I certainly - ”

He gave it up as a bad job as Ray advanced until he had him pinned against the fridge. He wondered briefly then how long it was supposed to take to grow accustomed to a sexual relationship – clearly, longer than six months, because it seemed like the second he felt Ray’s body against his, he found himself helplessly, achingly hard. Obviously it would be wiser _not_ to let himself grow accustomed to this, but when Ray looked him right in the eye with a wolfish smile and dropped to his knees, he let his head fall back with a thud and gave himself up to it.

He didn’t suggest sleeping at the detachment again, and Ray didn’t bring it up either.

 

                                                                            ***              ***              ***                         

 

Apparently Ray felt he had something to prove after that, because the next morning sleepy kisses to Ben’s jaw soon turned to wide-awake kisses that made their way down all the sensitive places on his body until he was gasping and shaking and twisting his fists in the sheets. When Ray finally, _finally_ took his cock into his mouth he couldn’t even find it in him to be embarrassed by the moan he let out as all that wonderful, wet heat swallowed him down.

Ben was still trying to catch his breath when Ray padded off to the bathroom with a satisfied smile. In the back of his mind he knew Ray was trying to tell him something with all this sex, but he was so distracted by – well, all the sex – that he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. He closed his eyes and almost drifted off to sleep, a blissful white space in his head.

Which was why the appearance of his father in full dress uniform at the bedside came as such a shock that he actually yelled. Ray stuck his head out of the bathroom, asking, “You say something?”

Ben waved him back in weakly, then realised there was a lovebite on his collarbone. He hastily pulled up the sheet.

“Hello dad?” he managed.

Was it better to sit up? Act like Ray hadn’t just a second ago been…in the bed with him? Brazen it out and lodge a complaint at the interruption? Didn’t this sort of thing happen to other people in their teens, like acne and regrettable hair? To find himself caught in flagrante, in his own home, at his age, seemed to be his father’s fault on several levels. For rarely having been there to interrupt anything when Ben was a teenager (never mind that there had been precious little to interrupt); and for the infuriating timing he had mastered from beyond the grave, to name but two. He forgave himself for the cool welcome particularly on the second count – surely anybody but Robert Fraser would know not to appear through a closed bedroom door when there were _two_ people on the other side of it?

“Oh, don’t worry son. I waited outside till your friend was in the bathroom. I’m not completely insensitive, you know.”

Ben allowed his eyebrows to rise a fraction in response. He decided sitting up was the way forward.

“Ah, well, dad, it’s not that I’m not glad to see you, but this is something of a surprise. And, um, I – that is, Ray – it’s Ray’s room. And mine. And so he – both of us – we’d – I’d just appreciate it if you could knock, actually.”

“Right you are, son,”

Ben waited a second for the explanation behind this reappearance which would logically follow. But his father remained obliviously silent, sitting on the edge of the bed and smiling fondly at him. He even reached over and _patted Ben’s knee_.

“Dad?”

“Yes, son?”

“Obviously it’s…wonderful to see you again, but was there any particular reason you’ve come by today? I had understood you and mum – how is mum?”

His father adjusted his lanyard a fraction.

“Oh, never better, never better. In fact it was your mother who suggested I come. She sends her love.”

Ben tilted his head to indicate his readiness to hear more of this explanation.

“To be quite honest with you I think she wanted me out from under her feet for a day or two. I thought the afterlife was confusing, but it’s nothing compared to coming back to married life after a 30 year hiatus. We haven’t lived so long under the same roof since we made you – I have to say, I think she’s feeling that a bit of space will do us both good. Wise woman, your mother, Benton. Now, you two, on the other hand, you’re still in the honeymoon phase, but don’t forget your mother and I…”

Mercifully, Ray’s voice interrupted the awful course that sentence seemed set upon.

“Ben?” he called from the bathroom. “I will do that to you every morning for the rest of your life if you make me coffee now, how ‘bout it?”

Just a moment ago, Ben would have invaded the bathroom to kiss Ray senseless for saying that. Right now, however, he wished the ground would swallow him up.

The only thing for it was to get his father out of the bedroom and away from Ray. And get some clothes on.

“Oh, don’t be so prudish, son,” his father said as Ben wriggled into sweatpants. He was still smiling – proudly? Fondly? Maddeningly? “I used to change your diapers, you know.”

Ben fixed him with a look. “ _Really_ , dad?”

“Well. The odd one.”

 

                                   

His father followed him into the kitchen and stood beaming as he set about making coffee for Ray. His approval seemed to fall on kitchenware, rented furniture and Ben himself in equal measure and Ben was no closer to understanding why he was there to approve of anything at all.

“I don’t mean to belabour the point, dad – and not to sound unwelcoming – but why are you here _now_? It has been six months, and you – and mum – you implied that the two of you had gone, so…”

“Oh, don’t ask me to explain it, son. I’m no wiser than you are. It’s your mother. She sent me. Said you said you wanted me to meet your young man.”

“How on earth -” he couldn’t help looking over at the couch where he _hadn’t_ in fact said that he wished his father could have met Ray. (Perhaps he _should_ have said it; Ray would have appreciated the vote of confidence.) And where shortly after not saying that, he and Ray had -

“Your hair’s sticking up at the back, son,” his father said.

“Well forgive me if I don’t sleep in full dress uniform, but when I went to bed there wasn’t anybody else here!” he snapped, but he reached up to smooth it down anyway.

“Well. I can see I’ve caught you at an awkward moment. I told your mother, I said Caroline, Benton’s a grown man now, he’s got things to do…” Was it his imagination, or did his father have a _twinkle_ in his eye as he said that?

“Dad!”

“Well, I’m sorry, but we’re both very pleased for you. You spent a lot of time on your own when you were younger – no, no, that was partly our fault, no need to say it – and some of your choices in the past – well, the less said the better. But your Yank now, he’s a good man. He wouldn’t have been my first choice, but I can see he’s good for you. Appreciates the Canadian way of life. No debts. Good in a tight spot.”

Ben found he was laughing with something approaching hysteria.

“I’ll tell him we have your blessing, shall I? I’m sure he’ll be very pleased to hear I still speak with you from beyond the grave.”

“No need to be sarcastic, son. Of course, I still have to meet his people. Ask a few questions about his upbringing. Has he had the full range of childhood inoculations? A man needs to know that kind of thing when he’s committing himself. And what are his intentions? I take it he’s sticking around – he certainly seems fond of you…”

This time the twinkle in his eye was unmistakable. Ben suddenly, viscerally, understood Ray’s concern that any announcement to his parents should avoid even the vaguest acknowledgement of physical intimacy. He sank helplessly into a kitchen chair. Surely, if there were any blessing from having almost no living family, it was to be spared this sort of conversation? He refused to humiliate himself by admitting he didn’t know what Ray’s intentions were, and whether he was sticking around.

Perhaps the only thing to do was surrender to the situation, embrace the inevitable.  Wouldn’t Ray want to think he would have been approved of? Well, now he had a definitive answer to that question, didn’t he?

“I was wondering, actually, how you would have felt about – this. About Ray. And me.”

His father’s face softened into the most paternal expression Ben ever remembered seeing.

“Oh, Benton. I always wondered about the two of you, but partnership _is_ very like a marriage - ”

“We’re hardly _married_ , dad…”

“ - and I thought I had my wires crossed maybe, got the wrong end of the stick. You never brought it up, so _I_ wasn’t going to say anything. You might have taken it the wrong way. Besides, feelings and things – by the time a man gets to be my age, he knows what he’s good at and what he’s less good at. You know.”

Ben did know.

“Your mother now – she’s got the knack of it. Ah! Mustn’t forget…” he began patting the pockets of his uniform. “She wrote a list. Some advice.”

“Advice,” Ben repeated. He realised as the coffee began to percolate that he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and felt he couldn’t possibly be expected to endure advice from his dead mother while his dead father could still see the lovebite very-much-alive Ray had left on his collarbone.

The memory of Ray putting it there was still vivid: perhaps it was unbecoming at his age, but willingly immobilised under Ray’s warm weight, with Ray’s hot mouth marking him, he’d found himself more and more aroused. Ray had raised his head at last and rocked his hips against Ben’s.

“Really? _Again?_ Ok, I’m seriously impressed with Mountie stamina,” he said. But he’d looked so pleased with himself as he slid down the bed that Ben assumed it didn’t need pointing out where the credit for all this stamina really lay.

So he didn’t regret the mark, but clearly they had failed to plan for the unannounced appearance of his dead father when deciding that no-one but Ray would be seeing Ben without his shirt on.

He tried to look nonchalant as he snagged a t-shirt from one of the kitchen chairs, mentally blessing Ray’s inner slob for leaving it there. Obviously he had been too quick to judge that inner slob. His father produced an envelope from a pocket with a flourish, and Ben felt fortified to deal with it as he pulled Ray’s shirt over his head. It was a little tight on him, and still smelled of Ray.

But his mother’s advice was postponed by Ray himself coming into the kitchen, bright-eyed and still damp from the shower. Ben was always surprised how he could be so attractive all tousled and rumpled when he first woke up, and then almost _more_ attractive in a quite different way half an hour later when he emerged from the bathroom all clean-smelling and freshly shaven. Possibly this contrast was what made him look at Ray _like that,_ even with his father standing right there. Ray couldn’t see his father, but he could certainly see Ben’s look and rewarded it with a hot and dirty kiss that got his whole body involved and seemed more than ready to take them back to bed. It was quite a struggle to overcome his conditioned response to Ray and remind himself that his father was in the room.

“I made you coffee,” he said. His voice came out more breathless than he was expecting.

Ray pulled back and smiled without letting go of him. “I _love_ you, Fraser!”

“And I you, Ray.”  His voice almost got away from him again, which was ridiculous.

Over Ray’s shoulder he saw his father backing away towards the kitchen door. He put the envelope under the stone on the window sill.

“I’ll just leave this here for you son, don’t want to be in your way…”

 

* * *

 

The first day went surprisingly well.

Ben had practiced in his head how he ought to greet Ray’s parents. They’d met several times in Chicago, but that seemed like a long time ago and he wasn’t sure they’d remember him. They’d probably have remembered the red uniform, he thought; but he wasn’t wearing that one these days. In fact he wasn’t wearing any kind of uniform today, because he had the day off. There was much to be said for a uniform, even an uncomfortable one: you didn’t have to think about what to wear, and nobody was going to read anything into what you decided on.

Diefenbaker looked at him from the bedroom door as he stood there in his undershirt, contemplating his small wardrobe with dissatisfaction. Didn’t he have any clothes that said: “My feelings for your son are profound yet platonic; I love him like a brother and would do anything for him (not that that will be necessary because it’s statistically much safer here than Chicago, and youth work is much safer for him than law enforcement, and I will never do anything to place him in danger); however if you already know about and approve of our relationship, then my feelings are profound and _not_ platonic but in a way I will avoid bringing to your attention because you are his parents so as far as you are concerned, my non-platonic feelings are expressed mainly through passionate hand-holding; and I love him not at all like a brother, although obviously I refrain from mentioning this.”

Diefenbaker made a derisive sound and left him to his indecision.

“Well thank you for your support!” Ben snapped at his retreating tail. “Don’t look to me for advice when _you_ meet somebody and want to make a good impression on their family!”

He settled on a clean blue shirt and jeans.

 

                                                                             ***              ***              ***       

 

Ray’s parents looked very, very happy to see him.

His mum kept hugging him, and saying how well he looked – he’d put on weight, it suited him! (It was muscle, Ben thought. It _did_ suit him.) His dad shook his hand and then pulled him into a hug too; kept clapping him on the shoulder and remarking how life up here seemed to agree with him.

“You remember Fraser, right? We were partners in Chicago, we’re sharing this place…”

And he was up to bat.

They both beamed at him, and with three Kowalski faces turned to him Ben was struck how Ray looked like both his parents. He wiped his hands on his jeans, palms suddenly clammy.

“Ben, please,” he said, stepping forward and holding out his hand. “Welcome to Canada.”

“Of course we remember you! Good to see you again.” He was strangely touched to get his own clap on the shoulder from Ray’s father.

“You’re looking after Stanley for us, I see – making sure he eats,” said his mum.

“Ah, yes,” Ben looked a little desperately at Ray for a clue how to take this remark. It felt fraudulent to claim he made sure Ray ate: sometimes he cooked, certainly, but that didn’t seem like the same thing. Ray probably cooked more often than he did, in fact. And now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure he’d made Ray miss breakfast a few times in favour of breathless morning sex. It had seemed like the right choice at the time, (and he firmly closed the mental door that opened on quite how _much_ it had seemed like the right choice, with Ray gasping under him, urging him on with _yes yes yes_ _don’t stop, fuck, you -_ ) but now he felt a pang of guilt. Perhaps he could venture that Ray’s diet had improved? He certainly ate less sugar than he had in Chicago…

“Mom, I’m a grown up, no one needs to make sure I eat.” Ray complained.

“I know, sweetheart, I know.”

 

Ray showed them the ground floor of the house but somehow didn’t get round to showing them the upstairs. They were going to sleep in the RV, and anyway it wasn’t like the place was theirs. After lunch they walked down to the lake near the house. The sun was warm and Ray and his dad skimmed stones on the water while Ben reassured his mother how well he’d settled in and how well respected he was by his new colleagues, the RCMP and the troubled young people he worked with. She didn’t ask why he’d felt the need to come all the way to Canada for a career change, and Ben didn’t volunteer any information in that regard. Affairs of the heart were personal – nobody was obliged to tell other people about what consenting adults did in private, were they? Indeed it was quite the opposite: chivalry would dictate not breathing a word of it. He hadn’t told Ray Vecchio anything about what had or hadn’t happened between Francesca and himself; why should Ray Kowalski’s parents be any different? It did seem different though.

           

* * *

 

 The next day it all went wrong.

The phone rang early, and Ben assumed it must be for him – some emergency needing his attention. He was almost relieved at the thought as he went to answer, but it wasn’t for him after all. It was Ray’s boss Craig.

“Sorry to call you so early, Constable Fraser – is Ray there? I just need to have a word…”

He handed the phone to Ray and stepped away.

He could hear Ray saying, “Right. Oh – uh, well, it’s just that my parents are here, so…Yeah…yeah…No, I understand that, those tickets are a once in a lifetime opportunity, but…”

There was a pause while he listened. “Well, uh, can I call you back in a minute? I might be able to go, just gimme like, a half hour to talk to my folks, see if I can rearrange some stuff…so the file’s in the office, anything else happen with him recently I should know…?”

Ray had his professional, paying-attention voice on and there was no need to ask what the call had been about when he hung up. But Ben had an awful sinking feeling so he asked anyway.

“Do they need you _today?”_

Ray nodded. “One of the kids we’re supervising, got himself arrested up in Behchoko. Craig asked me to go, ‘cause he has these Yukon light opera tickets for tonight.”

“Yukon light opera tickets?” Ben echoed, incredulous.

“Yeah. Says he won’t make it back in time if he goes.”

The looked at each other. 

“Well, you know I’m a great supporter of the arts, Ray, but that doesn’t seem like a very solid reason to ask you to give up your day off.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Ray muttered.

“So you’re not going to go?”

Ray scowled, rubbing a hand across his face. “I think I got to, Ben. He’s my boss. The only reason he didn’t say _you’re going Kowalski, suck it up_ , is ‘cause he’s Canadian and it’s, like, in your DNA to make it sound all polite.”

“That’s a gross generalisation - ” Ben objected.

“- and it’s lucky I already learned to speak Canadian from hanging around you all this time, otherwise I woulda got sacked on my first day.”

“I’m glad to have been of assistance.”

“Yeah, you’re plenty of assistance,” Ray said, running a hand down his side with a grin. Ben almost let himself be distracted by the touch. But he said,

“But aren’t you encouraging his irresponsible attitude if you agree to go? I do think this is a case where refusal would be entirely justified...”

“Yeah, I know it would. And I don’t wanna go. But I don’t really got a choice, do I?”

“We always have a choice, Ray,” he said, knowing what a prig he sounded even as he said it.

“Don’t start that with me,” Ray said tiredly. “Alright, I have a choice, and the smart choice here is to go.”

He knew on one level Ray was probably right, but that did nothing to shake the awful feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.

 

 

Ben found he was trailing Ray round the house as he got ready.

As Ray finished shaving, he heard his priggish voice come back out and say,

“It sounds like a point of principle to me, Ray – even if he is your superior, you shouldn’t let him take this sort of attitude to his work.”

“Okay, yeah, I get what you’re sayin’ here, but two months into the job ain’t the time for _me_ to be saying it to my _boss_. Because that, my friend, is the way to unemployment and deport – deport – ” the end of the word got lost as he washed traces of shaving foam off his face.

“Deportation?”

“Yeah. That. Granted, I did not enter the country in a dignified manner, but getting deported would be about the only way I could leave that would be even worse than how I came in.”

“Nobody is going to deport you, Ray...”

“Look, Fraser.” Ray turned to look him full in the face. “You know I don’t wanna go, but there are things it’s worth making a fuss about and things you just gotta suck up. And this? This is one of the things you gotta suck up.”

“For Yukon light opera tickets?”

“He’s my boss, Fraser! You did exactly the same thing in Chicago – when the Ice Queen said jump, you said how high!”

“Inspector Thatcher was a conscientious superior officer who would never have expected someone under her command to take over her responsibilities for a social event!”

“You know what? That’s probably true, but it don’t change shit. Craig told me to go, so I gotta go if I wanna keep this job.”

“He won’t _fire_ you, Ray! They’re lucky to have you.”

“Says _you_. But I don’t work for you, I work for him.”

“Not on your day off you don’t,” Ben objected.

“Oh, because when you lived in your damn _office_ you never let anyone call you in on _your_ days off,” Ray said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, wait, that’s because you lived in your office and they didn’t even have to call you!”

“Well, I don’t let anyone call me in now, do I?” he retorted. He was about to add, _they respect the fact that I have a personal life_ , when it occurred to him that his whole personal life was standing bare-chested and irritable in front of him, and that his RCMP colleagues probably had no idea what Ray was to him.

“Right. You get back to Canada, and suddenly all that fetching dry cleaning never happened? You’re Mr Boundaries now, huh?”

Ray spoke in rising anger, but it struck him that the words were absolutely true. If he had never taken time off in Chicago, it was because he had had nothing to fill that time, and if he worked then at least he would see Ray. Now it was quite the opposite: he guarded the free time he was given _in order_ to see Ray. Ray who was building up a head of annoyance at him, if his increasingly energetic gesticulation was any indication.

“I don’t know if you are aware of this, Fraser, but when you start a new job, you got this little thing called a _probation period_. Where they are testing you, to see if you’ll screw up. And if I screw up, I got no job any more and I am _out_. And if I am out _there_ , I am out of Canada, ok?” Ray was grimly serious now.

“Oh, don’t be melodramatic, Ray!” he said in exasperation. “It just seems like they’re taking advantage of you, that’s all. Your _parents_ are here.”

Ray hunched his shoulders like Ben had struck him as an emotion he couldn’t read crossed his face. But a second later it was gone, and his tone was deliberately light.

“Yeah, but you can look after my parents just for today, right?”

In theory he knew he could, but he felt a sick reluctance to agree to it. He would say the wrong thing – give everything away about the two of them when the Kowalskis seemed blissfully ignorant. Or he’d say the sort of thing that made Ray look at him fondly and call him a freak, even though he didn’t know why. Oh, most of the time he knew perfectly well and did it on purpose, but then sometimes he really didn’t. Surely Ray didn’t want his parents to think he was roommates with a freak? Or worse still, not _just_ roommates?

Ray didn’t miss his lack of response, and the light tone vanished.

“What?” he asked belligerently.

“Nothing, Ray,” he said, but the voice of innocence didn’t work quite as well as it used to on Ray. 

“You just can’t let it go, can you? Why was this so different when it was you? What, you’re a Mountie, so it’s all truth and justice when _you_ gotta go to work – ”

“Ray…”

“- but when it’s me I’m getting walked on?”

“I’m not making any kind of judgement on your work! Yes, maybe I worked in my free time, but that was because there wasn’t anybody outside of work who needed me!”

“And nobody needs _me_ either!” Ray shot him a look as if daring him to argue. And he was damned whatever he said: impossible now to say that he needed Ray; a lie to claim he did not. Ray seemed to read an answer into his silence anyway: he hunched his shoulders and turned into the bedroom.

“There you go then. _You’re_ here to hang out with my parents, it’s not like I’m leaving them to starve in the wilderness and get eaten by bears, y’know.”

“ _Craig_ doesn’t know that. He’ll think he can always call you on your days off if you say yes now…”

“What is _with_ you? Forget Craig, this is about that dumb kid who needs me to sort it out where he screwed up! So they ask me to work _one time_ , and you suddenly you think I’m a pushover?”

“No, but…”

“But what? It’ll be fine: mom and dad like you, and you know the area better than me anyway.”

“Beautiful though it is, Ray, I don’t think they really drove three and a half thousand kilometres just to get to know this particular isolated corner of Canada, do you?”

Ray threw his hands up in exasperation. “Look, Fraser. You know I have to go – you’d go. You would totally go. If it was me here with your parents, you would drop me in a second if someone needed you at work. Especially if it was for a _kid_ – a kid you could _help_ …”

And that was true. It was definitely true. He hadn’t really thought about it before, but when you put it like that, the idea of _dropping_ someone, it didn’t sound as much like laudable devotion to duty as – as the sort of thing his father used to do. 

For all that Ray was right, he felt like he’d sucker punched him.

“Well, luckily for you my parents are dead, Ray, so we’ll never be able to put that to the test, will we?”

He knew that it was an unforgivable thing to say as soon as he’d said it. For a second they just looked at each other in surprise, briefly united in mutual astonishment at something so vicious coming out of Ben’s mouth.

Then Ray shot him a smile that was all teeth and anger.

“Yeah, lucky, _lucky_ me.”

 

                                                                             ***              ***              ***      

 

Ray’s parents came in as Ray was getting ready to leave.

“Mom, dad, I gotta go to work, just for today, ok? It’s this kid, got himself arrested and someone’s gotta go sort it out, they asked me to go, so... I’m really sorry to cut out on you, but Ben’s gonna show you round town, ok?”

He sent Ben a challenging look. Ben shifted awkwardly and avoided his eyes, watching Ray fling papers aside as he searched for something.

“That sounds marvelous, sweetheart. We don’t want to disrupt anything by being here, do we Damian? If you have to go to work just you go right ahead,” Barbara said, either oblivious or choosing to ignore the undercurrents.

Ray seemed determined to bring them to her attention. “Did you move my day file? The one I always leave here?”

“No.”

“You sure? You didn’t, like, decide to tidy up because my parents were coming?”

“I said no, Ray,” Ben told him, carefully calm in front of the Kowalskis.

“Ok.” Ray said through gritted teeth. “So did you move it _without_ deciding to tidy up? Because it was here, I left it here, so if it isn’t here you musta moved it.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“Right. Sure. You aren’t a neat freak who cleans stuff up without telling me where you cleaned it to...” He pushed a pile of reports from the countertop to the floor with a mutter.

“Maybe if you actually put things in a safe place, I wouldn’t need to move them!”

“Oh, so now you did move it!”

“No, I didn’t! Maybe you didn’t even leave it here – there’s another fascinating pile of your things on the coffee table, perhaps an archaeological team would be able to unearth it there.”

“Ha ha. You’re a funny guy, Fraser.”

Ben followed him into the living room as he began demolishing the stack of papers on the coffee table. He could tell Ray’s parents were exchanging a look but could think of nothing to say that would help.

“Are you gonna help me look, or just watch?” Ray asked, rifling through files. “‘Cause I know this is a small town but there have got to be better things to do than watch me look for a file. Even for you.”

“Oh, well, if you wanted help you should have just _said_ so, Ray. You seemed to be enjoying taking out some frustration on the paperwork, so I thought…”

Ray muttered something about frustration that Ben didn’t ask him to repeat with his parents in the room.

“Let me help too, Stanley. What are you looking for?”

“No, mom, it’s cool, you don’t even know what it looks like – ” he flung open the doors of the cabinets and a small avalanche burst forth.

“God dammit! And anyway, Ben obviously put it somewhere, because I left it there, in the kitchen, and it ain’t there – oh I know, maybe the wolf moved it! Hey Dief, you move my day file?”

Ben rolled his eyes, but Dief gave a sympathetic whine as if to say, well, you drive him to it You know you do.

“If don’t have anything helpful to add, I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself,” Ben told him.

“Yeah and you can keep yours to yourself too,” snapped Ray.

“No, I meant – ”

“Yeah, I know what you meant.”

“Stanley...” said his mother in a tone of parental admonishment that Ben was sure could only make things worse.

He was on the verge of muttering something about frustration under his breath too, so he turned back to the kitchen to double check there. And then he realised he _had_ moved the damn thing. Ray had put it next to the stove, while they cooked tomato sauce, so of course he had moved it! Who put their important work files down next to a pan of tomato sauce? And he’d only moved it to the spare room they called the office but almost never used! Which was where he _always_ moved things, on the rare occasions he moved things at all: why hadn’t Ray thought to look there? Why was he tearing apart the living room?

He struggled briefly with the temptation to merely produce the thing and deny he’d ever touched it. But no. His reasons had been impeccable, and a good offense is the best defence, he decided. He marched out to fetch the day file, and shoved it under Ray’s nose. He wasn’t even wearing his glasses, for god’s sake! How did he expect to find anything if he wasn’t wearing his glasses?

“Here. It was in the office. Yes I moved it, you put it next to the tomato sauce on the stove, of course I moved it, it would have been ruined if I hadn’t. And if you start looking without your glasses you won’t find anything! Here!” He thrust Ray’s glasses at him in an equally unfriendly manner. He was really rather shocked by his own behaviour, but there was something almost liberating in letting go. He was peripherally aware of Ray’s parents drifting out of the room with the air of people wishing to be elsewhere, but in the heat of the moment he couldn’t quite find the time to be mortified.

“Ya see?” Ray yelled, snatching file and glasses from him. “I knew you moved it! If you’re gonna move my stuff, you gotta tell me you moved it or how the hell am I supposed to find it again? I don’t know what goes on in your head, I’m not a mind reader, Fraser! I don’t use the damn office: we don’t need an office – you see me needing an office? I look like a guy who needs an office?”

“Clearly not!” Ben yelled back. “Let’s just move all your papers to the stove top, shall we? Then we can rent that room out!”

“Oh, you are somethin’ else – ” He cut himself off and stomped back to the hallway where his parents were hovering awkwardly.

“Where the fuck are my boots?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Ray!”

He heard Damian’s voice from the hallway say: “Raymond!” but Ray wasn’t listening.

He stormed back and jabbed a hard finger into Ben’s chest. “Just. Think real hard before you tell me you didn’t move ‘em, okay?” His face was twisted into a sneer of anger Ben only remembered seeing directed at him once before.

“Did you look by the kitchen door? I mean, look with your glasses on rather than just stumbling in and out again?”

“I swear, I’m gonna – ” but he turned on his heel rather than finish his threat and a second later Ben heard the thump, thump, of his boots being found.

“Ok. I’m outta here. Mom, dad, I’ll maybe see you tonight, probably in the morning, though, if this kid acts like usual. You ok? You got everything you need?”

“Yes of course; we’ll see all the sights with Ben, won’t we?”

Despite the tension in the air Barbara managed to beam at him, as if to promise she wasn’t holding him responsible for Ray’s anger. He wasn’t sure he deserved such clemency, but even Damian chimed in.

“Oh don’t worry, son, it’ll give us a chance to get to know each other; you just go to work now.”

Ray turned to glare at him across the room. “Fine. Well. Don’t miss me too much.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, and for a second a look of distress displaced the anger. Then it was gone again. “Ok fine, you won’t. See ya,” he said and slammed the door behind him before Ben had time to react.

An endless silence stretched out as the sound of Ray’s car faded. Ben could feel Ray’s parents looking at him. Any second now he would turn around. He would. He could do this, he was a Mountie, for God’s sake!

From behind him he heard Ray’s mother say, “Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart. He’ll be sorry before he’s out of sight of the house.”

He clenched his fist and nodded. _He_ was sorry before Ray was out of sight of the house, that much was sure. He felt her hand on his shoulder.

“He will. I remember sometimes, when he was a little boy, he’d get mad and yell at me something awful before he went to school, and then he’d call me up from the payphone on the corner to say he was sorry. He’ll probably phone from the end of the road to apologise.”

But he didn’t.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The rest of the day was intolerable.

He couldn’t blame Ray’s parents - they were perfect guests. Interested in everything he showed them; easy-going; asking him just the right kind of question about himself that he could see they were trying to be friendly and get to know him, without ever feeling they were prying. If, in some parallel universe the situation had been reversed, he couldn’t imagine his own father would have been so tactful left alone with Ray.

Barbara was asking him, “So Stanley told us you’re from the north - did you grow up around here?”

“Ah, no – rather further north, in fact. Inuvik. And Tuktoyaktuk. But I came back here because -”

Why _had_ he accepted this particular posting? While hardly a city on the scale of Chicago, Yellowknife was a metropolis compared to the other detachments he might have joined, a place where a visiting American might find Chinese food; a bar showing Hawks games; a job. (There were plenty of questions he had avoided asking Ray since they left Chicago on an airplane wing; perhaps there were some he had avoided asking himself, too.)

“Because - ”

But Barbara seemed to intuit an answer where he had none, and filled the pause his truncated statement had left.

“Well, Stanley seems very happy up here – every time we speak to him he’s just _full_ of enthusiasm for everything the two of you are doing up here, isn’t he Damian?”

“Oh yes. Don’t think he’s been this happy in years,” Damian agreed. Stella’s name was not spoken, but Ben couldn’t help but wonder if it was implied.

“And where does your family live? Are they nearby? They must be pleased to have you back in the country,” Barbara said.

“I have a half-sister up in Tulita, but that’s a few hours away. More, in winter.”

A half-sister Ray had flirted with, and whom Ben had almost wished to postpone visiting until some vague future when things (what _things_? Another question he had avoided asking himself) were more settled. But in the end he and Ray had spent two days with Maggie on their way to Yellowknife, and within an hour of their arrival Ray was giving him a backrub at her kitchen table. Ben had been a little distracted from the conversation from that point - aching muscles melting under Ray’s hands and praying not to be asked to stand up; he was fairly sure Ray hadn’t told her anything about the expanded nature of their partnership though, (and anyway what would he have said?) but it seemed Maggie understood all the same, because that night she had showed them to a double-bedded guest room without a word of apology at making them share.

“Oh yes?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t the time to tell the full story about his father and her mother, so he said the first thing that came into his head which was, “She’s also a Mountie.”

“Is that right? Your parents must be very proud of you both,” Barbara said with a glance at her husband which presumably summarised 15 years of differing opinions on their son’s career choice.

“Ah, well, my parents are both dead, in fact.”

He suddenly found he didn’t want to tell this story either, not even the rehearsed version which he had told so many times in Chicago that the words had almost lost their meaning. And he certainly didn’t want to speculate on whether his parents were proud of him. He wasn’t feeling very proud of _himself_ today, that much was sure.

Another look passed between the Kowalskis.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Barbara said.

There was a small pause until Damian asked, “So this place started out as a mining town, is that right...?” and Ben launched into a history of mineral exploitation in Yellowknife in relief.

 

Uncomfortable though the day was, Ben found himself liking the Kowalskis: they were good people. Not that he’d seriously thought otherwise, but somehow before they arrived he’d started to think of them with vague disquiet. Now they were here, though, he found Ray’s father reminded him of those quiet men used to hard physical work he’d grown up around; his mother had some of that sharp, quicksilver energy he found so attractive in Ray. Under other circumstances he would have felt quite at home with them – enjoyed their company, even.

Perhaps it would have been easier if he _hadn’t_ found himself liking them, and _wanting_ to talk to them. Diefenbaker was no help - his adoration of Ray appeared to extend automatically to Ray’s family, and he sat in the back seat with his head on Barbara’s lap as Ben drove them into the old town centre.

“He’s very affectionate!” she said as she rubbed his ears, apparently unperturbed by the threat of wolf-hair on her clothes.

“Not with everybody,” Ben said, taking a glance in the rearview mirror and rolling his eyes at such hopelessly domesticated behaviour. “But he certainly seems devoted to Ray and I think he must have grasped that you’re Ray’s mother. Wolves have a very strong sense of family feeling.”

“Oh, they do? Do you remember, Damian, when Stanley was six or seven, how he used to pester us for a dog? And we couldn’t keep one in that little apartment so we got him that stuffed toy instead? He slept with that every night for years...”

Ben was suddenly hit with the memory of returning from a patrol to find Ray sprawled sound asleep on the couch in the afternoon sun, Dief squeezed in next to him and snoring gently. He had stood in the doorway watching them for longer than he cared to admit, chest tight with emotion, until Dief looked up and the movement woke Ray. He had looked very young, asleep like that.

“Strangely enough, I have no trouble imagining that,” he said.

“What about you? Did you have a dog when you were a child, Ben?”

No. No dog. Not at six or seven.

“No,” he said shortly.

 

It was unavoidable that they should continue to talk about Ray, he being the one thing they had in common. But as the day wore on Ben found he was incapable of judging _how_ he should talk about Ray. He was sure his tone veered from the indifferent to the inappropriately attached without ever landing on the safe haven of sturdy, uncomplicated friendship. He would start out coolly professional, and then worry that they might think Ray was sharing his living space with someone who didn’t even like him. When he tried to correct himself, to express some small part of his affection, his words started running away from him and he would have to stop before he inadvertently resolved the question of whether Ray’s parents knew about them. They must have thought he was unhinged.

He tried to remember how he had spoken about Ray in Chicago, before all this, when they really were just the kind of friends his parents seemed to think they were still. He picked a date: the first of August, last year, he told himself. How did I refer to Ray in front of Lt. Welsh on the first of August? But his feelings for Ray _now_ seemed to have soaked backwards and for the life of him he couldn’t imagine how he had ever managed to speak dispassionately about Ray. Ray with his hard muscle and smooth skin and a flush high across his face when he was just about to –  don’t think about that, he told himself sternly! Ray who tickled him (had anyone ever tickled him before? It seemed unlikely; he couldn’t remember it if they had); who brought him coffee in bed; who crowded him on the couch and draped long legs all over him as they watched TV; left shirts in the kitchen, towels on the bedroom door, hair gel balanced on the edge of the sink, lovebites on his collarbone, a stone that looked like a dog on the kitchen window sill. Had there really ever been a _before_ to all of that?

There must have been, but there was no getting it back now. He would put that stone in his pocket when he got home, so he’d have it when there was an after.

         

* * *

 

 

His father appeared again when he went up to bed at the end of the day.

“That didn’t go so badly, son. I think they like you!” he said, following Ben into the bathroom.

“I’m glad you think so. I like them too. But it doesn’t do me much good _them_ liking me if Ray…” It seemed best not to say it out loud.

“Oh, he was just letting off steam, you heard his mother - he was sorry before he reached town. These things blow over, perfectly normal fight. Believe me, your mother and I -”

Ben cut him off.

“Dad, it’s not that I don’t appreciate you trying to help, but didn’t you tell me the longest the two of you actually lived under the same roof were those four months in the igloo? Rat River, wasn’t it?”

“Well, we’re making up for it now, son; we’re making up for it now. Which is why I sympathise with what you’re going through! You’re a chip off the old block, and men like you and me - well. Cohabitation doesn’t come easy to us. But you need somebody – no man is an island, you know…” And where on earth might Ben have gotten the idea that he _ought_ to be? Which role model in his youth could _possibly_ have encouraged his tendencies to self-sufficiency bordering on isolationism? “Let me give you a piece of advice - ”

“Y’know, dad -” he began, but his father would not be interrupted a second time.

 “You do tend to be stand-offish, if you don’t mind my saying so -”

That stung. “Yes, I wonder who I could have learned that from?” he snapped. 

But his father took it in his stride. “Oh, you’re quite right, this is our fault really, son. Your mother’s already made herself quite clear on the subject. You were too young to remember seeing the two of us together, I know that – besides, we didn’t like to argue in front of you – and Lord knows your grandparents didn’t go in for that sort of thing, so now you’ve got no experience of how to handle conflict in a positive way - ”

“How to handle conflict in a positive way?” Ben echoed incredulously. “Dad, have you been getting relationship advice from _self-help books_?”

“- and now you’re blowing a lovers’ tiff out of all proportion!”

“A _lovers’ tiff?_ ”

“Yes, that’s what I said. So the important thing is to be absolutely clear who’s taking care of the dogs and who’s pitching the tent - ”

 “We don’t _have_ dogs and we live in a _house!"_

“No need to take that tone with me, I hadn’t finished. Where was I? Oh yes, and the other thing is to know when it’s best to just apologise and move past it, and trust the other person will do the same,” his father concluded with a nod as if that were all there was to it, and the enormity of sharing your life with another human being could be safely navigated with a couple of platitudes and a domestic rota.

“I would love to apologise! But Ray isn’t here, in case you hadn’t noticed, and he isn’t answering the phone so I don’t think he’s ready to hear it! I yelled at him in front of his parents, or were you not here for that part?” He could hear his own voice getting snippy, but some things a man could not be expected to bear with equanimity.

“Oh, it’ll sort itself out when he gets back, you’ll see,” said his father, unperturbed.

“Yes, that’s precisely what I’m afraid of dad, thank you.”

“Oh, you’re just being melodramatic – you should have a little more faith in him! I know what you’re thinking, but he won’t walk out over one fight, you know. He’s obviously in love with you - ”

“And I’m in love with him, but I don’t see what difference that makes to anything!” he burst out. It just seemed _unfair_ of his father to bring that up now, when things were – well, at the very best they were in doubt.

“Honestly, Benton – anyone would think you were raised by wolves! Have you mentioned this to _him_? Because people like to know that sort of thing, you know! Even if you’ve said it once, it bears repeating!”

“It’s not – we’re not like that.”

“Oh don’t be so foolish, of course you are – I’ve got eyes! I see how you are together!” He shook his head in apparent despair at Ben’s incompetence. “I mean, he isn’t who I would have chosen for you, but I’ll admit he’s grown on me. And since you’ve committed yourself, you ought to do things properly - ”

“How on earth have I _committed myself_?” Ben asked, letting indignation mask the mixture of fear and pleasure the idea evoked. His father ignored him.

“How about I make a note in your diary for you, to remind you to tell him? First Sunday of the month ought to do it – if it’s written down, you won’t forget to say something.”

“Doesn’t that take some of the _romance_ out of it?” He didn’t know where the sneer in his voice had come from, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

“Oh, believe me son: take care of the small things like this, and the romance takes care of itself. You’ll see.”

Ben rolled his eyes and began brushing his teeth as loudly as he could to discourage further conversation.

 

                                                                        ***         ***         ***

 

He had slept alone his entire life, so there was nothing remarkable about tonight. And yet the bedroom was disconcertingly silent now that Ray wasn’t here. He almost wished he had brought Dief up with him, but the wolf was so used to having the bedroom door closed in his face that he had staked out his territory downstairs. He would only have had something clever to say if Ben had asked him to come up.

The room was cold and he couldn’t find any of his own pyjamas – they just ended up on the floor these days, and he’d given up putting them on just to wriggle out of them as soon as Ray touched him. He hesitated with a pair of Ray’s sweatpants in his hands, but there was no virtue in going to bed cold; he could wash them easily enough if Ray...   _Honestly_ , he told himself, be a man about it! If he isn’t staying, you can give him his things back and wish him well, and damn well get used to sleeping alone again. You won’t _die_ of it.

 

 

He woke in the dark feeling the bed dip.

“Ray…” he mumbled into his pillow.

“Yeah. Didn’t mean to wake you up,” Ray whispered. Then he said, “Sorry. I’m really sorry, Ben…” and Ben had a horrible feeling like sinking. Not yet, he thought dully. Don’t be sorry _yet_.

“Want me to leave you alone so you can go back to sleep?” Ray asked in a small voice.

Before his conscience had time to wake up and remind him that if he wanted to make this easier on Ray, the answer should be _yes_ , he heard himself say, “No,” and Ray drew in a ragged breath and squirmed closer. His arm came tentatively round Ben’s waist as if unsure of his welcome.

“Well I’d deserve it if you did. Look, I couldn’t call you, the battery on my cell ran out, but I’m really sorry about this morning, ok?”

Ben heard him take another deep uneven breath. He knew he should answer, but he was paralysed between what he _ought_ to say and what he _wanted_ to say. He _ought_ to tell Ray there was nothing to be sorry for and wish him well if he wanted to leave things here. That would be the brave thing to do.

But Ray’s fingers brushed his stomach where his shirt had ridden up, and Ray whispered, “I’m sorry, this is all my fault, just – I’m sorry, ok?” and he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He pressed back into Ray, tangled their legs together and pulled Ray’s arm tighter around him.

“No, it was my fault,” he choked out. “ _You_ don’t have anything to apologise for – _I’m_ sorry…”

Ray made a sound like a sob into the back of his neck and he relaxed all his weight against Ben for a second. Then Ray was pulling at his shoulder until he turned onto his back and Ray could roll on top of him, kissing him softly, like he might break. Perhaps he _would_ break: his chest seemed to ache at the unexpected reprieve of having Ray here, like this. He put his arms round Ray and spread his legs so they were touching everywhere, but Ray didn’t speed up or move things on, just carried on kissing him and moved gently against him, with gentle hands and mouth. It was like making out in a dream, or underwater. It was like he was saying goodbye, and wanted to make it last.

At last Ray lifted his head, and there was just enough light for Ben to make out his face as he asked, “Ben – do you want to – can I - ”

“Oh God yes,” he breathed and went to turn over. But Ray stopped him.

“No, no, stay like that, I like it, I wanna see you.”

Which was precisely the reason he wanted to turn over, and he almost insisted. They had hardly ever done it like this; it always seemed _safer_ to have Ray behind him, gasping into his ear and holding on to him hard; where the angle was easier, and whatever went across his face could stay between him and the sheets.

But if this was going to be the last time – well. It hardly mattered now, did it? He could see Ray above him and something in his expression made Ben stay as he wanted him: Ray looked exactly like _he_ felt, like it was too much and not enough all at the same time. So he just said, “Alright, Ray,” and stayed as Ray wanted him.

Ray was still doing everything achingly slow - pushing his shirt up and planting hot, open-mouthed kisses on every inch of skin he uncovered. Shedding his own shirt and shorts almost shyly; stopping with his fingers tucked in the waist of Ben's sweatpants like he was making sure he was still allowed.

Finally he was reaching over, fumbling in the nightstand and coming back with slick fingers. He nudged Ben’s legs further apart, opened him up with slippery fingers that kept pressing inside him until he was trembling and panting and about to fall apart just from this, if Ray didn’t do something soon, he was going to –

He only realised he had closed his eyes when he opened them to tell Ray _now_ , he had to do it _now_ , and saw how intently Ray was watching him. His mouth was soft and open, eyes half-closed in concentration, and Ben couldn’t make the words come. He reached out with a desperate sound of wanting that Ray understood perfectly, because he took his fingers away and his cock was pushing in slow slow slow until he was all the way in and Ben could feel himself filled, _claimed;_ as completely with Ray as he ever could be. Then Ray stopped, braced above him, his face transformed with some emotion Ben couldn't name.

“Ben, I - ” he began, voice thick; but Ben couldn’t bear to hear it, whatever it was. So he rolled his hips up to meet him and Ray gasped, eyes falling closed as he finally gave himself up to it.

His first few strokes stayed slow, but Ray’s control didn’t last very long once he started to move. Ben heard himself moan as a deeper thrust sent sparks of pleasure through him, and that seemed to be the sign Ray was waiting for. He breathed, “Oh fuck, you’re...” and pulled Ben even closer.

And then Ray was fucking him a little too fast and a little too hard and that was right, that was exactly right. The slight burn kept him off the edge for longer, until he felt Ray stiffen and pulse inside him. Ben kept his eyes open even though it felt like cheating to be looking right up at Ray as he came. Oh, he thought. If that’s what I look like, then – but he didn’t know what the end of that thought would be. Then Ray’s hand was on his cock and all it took was a couple of strokes and he was coming, all over his belly and Ray’s fingers, Ray’s cock was still hard inside him. Ray was watching him, saying, “Yeah, that’s it, oh God, Ben, yeah…” and murmuring soothing sounds he couldn’t even make sense of.

 

* * *

                                                             

When he woke up next the sun was up; it was cold again, and the other side of the bed was empty.

Ben sat up slowly, struggling to wake up properly. The sweatpants Ray had pulled off him were still on the floor next to the bed. But the stone that looked like a dog wasn’t in the pocket any more. It wasn’t under the bed or the nightstand or between the sheets either. Perhaps Ray had found it and put it back on the kitchen window sill.

Ben remembered him finding it. They’d been hiking all day and had stopped to eat on a spit of stones beside a fast-flowing river. A low cliff sheltered them from the wind on one bank; dense trees reached down to the water on the other. It was hot in the sun and the water was very cold when they waded in. Ben lay down on the warm ground while Ray tried to skim stones: he knew Ray didn’t need telling that the water was too turbulent for skimming, so he didn’t tell him. Ben turned his face to the sun and everything glowed deep red behind his closed eyes; the air smelled of wild sage and the river rushed by at his feet.

He woke up to Ray walking the stone shaped like a dog up across his belly. His face was entirely serious.

He held the stone up where Ben could see it.

“Looks like a dog,” Ray told him.

“So it does.”

“I mean, a kinda deformed mutant-type dog, but still. Didn’t want you to miss one of the natural wonders of the world.”

“Thank you, Ray; I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Ben replied gravely.

They looked at each other.

“You’d manage,” said Ray after a moment.

“Possibly,” Ben conceded. “But I don’t want to.”

He reached out and Ray came into his arms all sun-warmed skin and river-cold hands and touched him everywhere.

Ray brought the stone home with them and put it on the kitchen window. Ben wasn’t sure if he understood why, but of all the tangible signs of Ray’s continued presence, it was the one he put the most faith in: a northern talisman made of stone that seemed to promise something enduring even though he and Ray had not. 

 

 

Ben knew what an empty house sounded like. When Ray got up first he could always hear him: singing along to the radio in the kitchen, whistling, talking to Dief. But this morning it was quiet. And then he remembered how Ray had fucked him in the night - like it was the last time, he’d thought. What if it _was_ the last time? What if Ray had crawled into bed to say goodbye by making love to him one last time? It would be oddly appropriate - there had been no declarations since they stopped being law enforcement partners and became - something else; just this bone-deep physical connection tying them together.

He tried not to break the silence as he padded out of the bedroom, forcing himself not to run; there was nothing more cowardly than a grown man crashing about to chase away an absence. He couldn’t even hear Dief, he realised. If he’s gone with Ray, he thought, if he’s gone with Ray – then they’ll look out for each other, that’s all. And let that be a lesson to me not to take a sanctimonious tone with a wolf. They don’t thank you for it.

At least his father hadn’t appeared with platitudes, he thought, then tamped down hard on the pathetic little voice that wished he would. He’d done his best after his death, but even so – emotional crises were hardly Robert Fraser’s forte. Not that this was a crisis; of course it wasn’t. If Ray had gone, then arguably Ben’s life had merely reverted to its default state, and anyone who saw a crisis there should just pull himself together.

Ben was concentrating so hard on pulling himself together that he was at the kitchen door before he smelled coffee. He pushed it open, barely awake enough to decipher what his senses were telling him. The outside door stood open and the sun was so bright here that it dazzled him. There were voices on the porch; voices that sounded like Ray and his parents.

He felt a painful clench of hope as he stepped out, blinking stupidly and almost afraid to look.

Three Kowalski voices greeted him as he rubbed his eyes, but he only really heard Ray.

“Hey Ben. You wanna coffee?” he said.

Ray looked – the same. A little tired. Rumpled. He was wearing one of Ben’s shirts and smiling tentatively. Ben realised then that not only everything he was wearing was Ray’s, but he had barely cleaned up after last night. He’d been so sure there was no one there to see him that he’d just rolled out of bed and come straight downstairs.

He realised now that he had been very stupid. _Of course_ Ray wouldn’t disappear like a thief in the night. That seemed perfectly obvious now. If he didn’t wish to continue this – whatever it was, he would stand up and say so. It was ridiculous to imagine Ray might run away without a word, and Ben couldn’t imagine how he could ever have thought he would.

“We’ve just been telling Stanley what a nice day we had yesterday,” Barbara said. Had they had a nice day? Perhaps they had. He looked back to Ray to see if he was buying that story.

Ray was holding out a cup of coffee. Coffee would help. Coffee would definitely help. He took the mug automatically as Ray pulled out the chair next to him and Ben sank into it, grateful that they all seemed to be taking his confusion for sleepiness. Maybe he _was_ still asleep. He took a sip of coffee and gazed at Ray.

Ray’s smile got more sure of itself.

“You’re cute when you’re all mussed up, you know that?”

He opened his mouth to remind Ray not to give the game away; after all, _he_ hadn’t let anything slip yesterday, no-one in town had said anything… Then he realised he couldn’t say anything without giving it all away himself, and closed his mouth again. He thought he might actually be blushing as Ray looked at him for an incriminatingly long time.

Finally he turned back to his parents with an infuriating smirk.

“Yeah anyway; if you came up next spring with the GTO I could drive it over the summer, and then maybe I can take some vacation time before the snow, and me and Ben could take a road trip, bring it back down to Chicago for the winter.”

“You pretty settled here then?” his father asked, like it wasn’t really a question.

“Uh, yeah, I like it here. It’s a nice place, the job’s cool – well, it sucked having to work yesterday, but that was the first time, and that guy retires next year anyway. So I’m pretty much planning on staying, I guess, yeah.”

His parents were nodding like pursuing a career change to the Canadian middle of nowhere was a perfectly reasonable decision.

“And this is a lovely house,” said his mother.

“Well it’s only rented, but yeah, it’s nice. I, uh, I like having a – a roommate, and we get on pretty well most of the time,” he ducked his head apologetically towards Ben. “So I guess we’ll carry on sharing, huh?”

He turned to Ben and his smile faded slightly.

“What?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Nothing!”

“You got that look, like you were about to say _ah_ ,” Ray said. He was looking at Ben like he used to look at witnesses who weren’t telling him everything but didn’t necessarily deserve to be kicked in the head.

“Nothing was further from my mind,” Ben assured him. He hadn’t intended to say a word, and if he had it would have been closer to _oh!_ than _ah_ , and that was quite a different kettle of fish.

Ray didn’t look entirely convinced, but he turned back to his parents.

“Ok, well I’m gonna go wash up, then I was thinking we could go see the Cameron Falls in Hidden Lake Park? The trees are really cool this time of year, and uh, Ben can tell you stuff about the musk ox migration trail up there…”

Ben nearly choked. Ray stood, drained his coffee and looked down at him all innocent concern. But Ben wasn’t fooled. He remembered that time in the kitchen, Ray sliding to his knees...

“Y’ok there buddy?”

When Ben nodded and coughed, Ray calmly ruffled his hair and went inside without another word, leaving Ben facing his parents with only a cup of coffee to defend himself.

 

His own father appeared from the open doorway Ray had just gone through.

“You see?” he said. “You should have more faith in him. I told you it’d all work itself out.”

Ben shot him what he intended to be a pointed look, but his father just beamed at him.

“I’d go in after him if I were you, son. I’ll sit here with your in-laws, don’t you worry.”

Oh, to hell with it, Ben thought. He turned back to the Kowalskis, and Barbara beamed at him too.

“Would you excuse me? I’ve just got to – I have to…” he gestured wordlessly towards the kitchen.

“Oh, you go right ahead,” said Barbara. “We’re fine out here, aren’t we? Don’t worry about us.”

And with that endorsement Ben all but bolted inside as his father sank into his empty chair and reached for his unfinished coffee.

                       

* * *

 

Ben could hear the shower running. Ray had left the bathroom door ajar, which he took to be an invitation – Ray wasn’t mad at him anymore, and he often did wander in while Ray was showering, surely he wouldn’t object?

Ray called out, “Hey,” over the noise of the water as he came to lean against the towel rail. Ben caught sight of his own reflection in the rapidly fogging mirror and made himself uncross his arms.

“So, uh, I’m sorry for yesterday,” Ray said, face turned to the spray. “ I should never have asked you to look after them, that was just – dumb. Don’t get me wrong, you did great, they love you, but I know I fucked up.”

“No, you didn’t. I don’t know what got into me - _I’m_ sorry.”

Ray waved his apology away. “No, I mean, I know you didn’t want hang out with them, on your own – I get that. I totally get that. It musta been really weird for you.”

“Not at all, Ray. I was happy to do it,” he lied. “Your parents are good people; I like them very much.”

“Well, they both kept telling me how nice you are so, uh…” he sounded perfectly calm, but he was rubbing shampoo into his hair possibly more vigorously than was strictly necessary. “So I guess they guessed. About us.”

“Did they _say_ so?” He hadn’t meant his voice to come out so defensive.

“Nah, didn’t have to. In the time it took me to make one pot of coffee they’d both told me, like, 30 times how much they like you. I mean, I get that you’re a likeable guy – I like you myself,  I think I mentioned that already – but who bothers to tell you that many times that they like your _roommate?”_ Ben didn’t know, but Ray wiped soap out of his eyes and concluded emphatically, “No one, that’s who,” so he assumed the question had been rhetorical.

“Ah,” he said, trying to feel out whether Ray held him responsible.

“See, I knew there was an ‘ah’ coming,” Ray said, turning to look at him properly. “Look, they’re cool with this. We ain’t gonna sit round the table and talk about how they support my life choices, but we don’t gotta pretend or nothing, ok?”

“Ok,” said Ben. That couldn’t be it, could it? Ray’s parents knew, and nothing happened? He felt poised on a knife-edge, waiting for Ray to react. He _seemed_ calm enough, making plans for the year to come, but Ray’s reactions were unpredictable and these were uncharted waters.

Ray turned back to face the spray.

“I mean, you don’t have to act surprised when I tell ‘em I’m staying up here.” His voice didn’t change but his body seemed to tense as he continued, “Unless, uh, you know, that ain’t what you want, ‘cause then, that’s different, that’s ok, I mean…”

And that voice - he knew _that_ voice of Ray’s, even if he hadn’t heard it since they went into that tent together and everything changed. It was the voice he had used about Stella, the voice that said, _so you and Vecchio, you worked together for a while.._.

Ben took an urgent step towards the tub, close enough to feel the spray; fought the urge to reach out.

“No, Ray, I do – of _course_ I want you to stay here! I just didn’t know _you_ wanted to.”

“Course I do. Unless _you_ wanna go somewhere else, but you seem to like it here, and I like it here, and I, uh, I wanna stick with you, so I guess I don’t really mind, but…”

Ben had to stop that _voice_ , he couldn’t bear being the one to make Ray sound like this. Ray should be arguing with him; laughing at him; gasping _yes yes yes like that oh -_

Ben cut him off. “I _do_ like it here, with you – if you’re _sure_ \- but I don’t want to take you away from everything you had in Chicago, the life you’d built...” But he _did_ though - that was precisely what he wanted! He reached out to look round the shower curtain and realised his hands were shaking.

“Fraser," Ray said firmly, turning to look at him. "When we met, did I strike you as some guy with a great life who had everything he wanted in Chicago? Or did I not tell you, over and over, that I was stuck in this job I’d had it with, humiliating myself over my ex-wife and generally living like a complete loser?”

“You may have _said_ that, but I would have disputed all of those assertions.”

“Yeah well, that’s just you because you gotta disagree with everything I say, don’t mean it wasn’t true. Because I would point you to State’s Exhibit A, taking an undercover job pretending to be someone else. What I got now, this is better. Living here. The job.” He paused. “You and me. You and me is good, isn’t it?”

Of course it was. It was probably the best thing he’d ever had, in fact. “Yes, Ray.”

Ray shut off the water and stood dripping. There was something vulnerable about the way he held himself, the hunch of his shoulders and the tiny smile as he took the towel Ben offered him.

“Look, I know I can be kinda…full-on, I guess. Uh – clingy. Stel used to say I was clingy. And that ain’t your thing, I know that, that’s ok – you just gotta tell me to back off, ok?”

“Ray - ” It almost hurt, to hear Stella’s name here, he had to make Ray stop -

“And I will, I mean I know that’s a thing I do, I cling, but I can fix that, you just gotta say…”

“Ray - ”

“If you need, like, space from me or something…”

“Ray, I don’t need space from you!” he managed to interrupt finally. “I’m sorry if I let you think that. I don’t find you clingy, it’s – I’ve _never_ thought that. Never.” Had he really got this so _wrong_ , that Ray didn’t know?

“Really?” Ray was blinking at him - pleased? Surprised?

“Really. I didn’t – I didn’t know you wanted to stay.” Why _would_ somebody like Ray want to stay up here? With _him_? It made no _sense_ , how could he have known?

Ray narrowed his eyes. “What, so signing my name on a lease, getting a job up here – that wasn’t enough to tip you off?”

Ben didn’t know what to say. “People with leases and jobs leave places all the time,” he said, looking helplessly at Ray. “You had a lease and a job in Chicago, and you still left.”

“Yeah, cause I wanted to go with _you_ , dumbass. And I don’t wanna leave here, cause _you’re_ here. Are you sensing the theme here?”

“It seems obvious when you say it like _that_ , but…” his voice sounded strange. He cleared his throat, rubbed at his eyebrow and then shoved his treacherous hands in his pockets.

Ray tucked the towel round his waist, stepped out of the tub.

“You coulda asked me, y’know," he said quietly.

“I know, I’m…” Why _hadn’t_ he asked? He knew why, really. Because he was a coward, delaying the blow, that was why. Don’t ask, and you won’t have to know. Don’t ask, and you can pretend he’s staying.

“Or I guess I coulda spelled it out more,” Ray continued, “But I figured you’d freak if I just came out and said, _hey Fraser, I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, how about it?"_

He pulled a face, and Ben couldn’t tell if he was mocking the sentiment or how he feared it would have been received.

“Do you?” he asked before he could stop himself and then froze in horror, a terrible white space in his head.

For a split second Ray froze too, all wide-eyed and shocked. Then he said, fast, “Yeah. Yeah, I do. Partners, Fraser – partners stick together, right?”

Ben nodded. He felt pretty wide-eyed himself, and his heart seemed to be beating too fast, like his chest was hollow and the echoes were going to shake him apart.

“You freaking out right now?”

Was he? Perhaps he was. Perhaps that would explain this tight feeling in his chest. Ray almost certainly knew more about these things than he did. Ray knew a lot of things he didn’t know. That was why they worked so well together, but this wasn’t work, this was a long way from work - this was an _earthquake_ , this was revolution, it had been going on for _months_ and it was trampling him now, this was -

“Ah, yes, I think I am actually,” he said in a voice that sounded higher than usual. He reached out and Ray stepped close, gripping his shoulders hard, grounding him.

“S’okay, just breathe…” Now that Ray had told him to breathe, he realised he hadn’t been. “I got you, you’re ok, it’s ok...” He took a breath: Ray nodded encouragingly at him and continued, “I mean, I freaked out when we moved in here.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. You were all busy checking every damn thing on the inventory, and I, uh - I freaked out.” Ray’s hands squeezed his biceps, moved up to knead his shoulders, the back of his neck. “Went for a run. Dief followed me the whole way like he was making sure I’d come back.”

That _had_ been a strange day, now that Ray reminded him. The realtor had left, and they had stood looking at each other in their half-empty house and Ben hadn’t known what to say. It had seemed best not to dwell on it, so he had busied himself with practicalities. How had he failed to notice Ray freaking out? He’d seen it before, after all, and it was quite unmistakable.

 “You know, I might have been freaking out then myself. I’m not sure the inventory really required quite the level of concentration I gave it…” The admission was oddly calming; his breathing seemed to be back under his own control.

“Yeah, I figured.” Ray seemed very calm about the whole thing, as if he’d understood all along. His hands still never stopped their rough soothing. “That’s your thing. Me, I gotta move. Fight or flight, right?”

“But you came back.” He raised his own hands to grip at Ray’s arms, remembering.

“Yeah, and you looked me up and down like you were gonna _eat_ me – which is a good look on you…”

“Well, you were all flushed and panting - ”

“- by which you mean sweaty and disgusting - ”

“…and I couldn’t help myself…”

“…and you went all alpha and fucked me over the kitchen table. Which I was _totally_ into, by the way, in case that wasn’t clear at the time - ”

And that was as far Ben’s self-control could let him get without yanking him close and kissing him hard. When they broke apart they were breathless, and Ray’s smile went all wolfish as he let Ben crowd him against the sink. Ben pressed up against him, reaching to touch _everywhere_ and feeling Ray’s skin warm and still damp, his hair sticking up in soft wild spikes. He let his kiss go fierce with everything he wanted to tell Ray, everything he didn’t say. And Ray meant it, he _was_ into it – he was kissing back just as hard, hands fisted in Ben’s shirt (no, it was his own shirt that Ben was wearing – but that didn’t _matter_ ), trying to get closer. When Ben tugged the towel off his hips and dropped to his knees, he widened his stance, bracing himself against the sink and gasped, “Oh fuck, yeah, yeah, yeah, Ben, you - ”

It was reassuring to find he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t control his reaction to this: Ray was hard before Ben even touched him. He looked up to find Ray gazing down at him, lips parted as if mirroring what Ben was about to do. When their eyes met his hand came off the sink to cup Ben’s face with such tenderness he almost looked away again.

“Fuck you’re hot like that, on your knees lookin’ up at me –  Ben, you’re –”

His hand slid back to grasp at Ben’s hair and Ben was hardly any less turned on himself at the feel of Ray’s cock thick and heavy in his mouth, Ray’s hand guiding his movements, the taste of him. He lost himself in the heat of Ray’s body, the silken slide of his cock and the _noises_ he was making – Ben wanted to remember those soft, broken noises Ray was making for the rest of his life; Ray sounded like that because of _him_ , like he was giving it all up and didn’t care who knew it.

He was gasping and muttering, “Yeah, like that, like that, I need - ” until his hips bucked sharply and his hands tightened in Ben’s hair, gripping hard (and he _loved_ that, how had he not noticed before how much he loved that?) and then Ray was coming in his mouth and Ray was all that he could see, hear, feel or taste.

 

When Ray’s hand slipped out of his hair he sat back on his heels and looked up again.

“Yeah, that look,” Ray panted, leaning back against the sink as if his legs wouldn’t hold him up. “So you really oughta get up here and fuck me now…”

Ben didn’t remember deciding to stand up, but he must have done because he was on his feet, kissing Ray, and Ray was tugging his shirt off with one hand, flailing behind him in the cabinet with the other (which was a frankly astonishing feat of multi-tasking, but Ray was always impressing him in new ways) until he found lube without even breaking the kiss. He pressed it into Ben’s hand and turned in his arms, leaning forward and bracing himself against the sink.

“You want me to – here?”

“Yeah, here, c’mon,” Ray urged, pushing back against him as their eyes met in the mirror. “Do me here...”

And how could anybody argue with that? So Ben slid off his sweatpants, slicked them both up, and fucked Ray up against the sink. He couldn’t even look at his own reflection, and Ray’s eyes in the mirror terrified and aroused him in equal measure – if he’d been able to think at all he might have worried what Ray would read on his face. But Ray knew it already, and anyway he couldn’t think, not with Ray so hot and tight around him, bent over and just _taking_ it like it was all he wanted; and when he came deep inside Ray’s body he had his face pressed into the side of Ray’s neck and barely heard him say in a low, fierce whisper, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, oh, I love you…”

When he lifted his head again Ray was flushed and smiling at him.

“I love you too,” he whispered into Ray’s hair, and he felt rather than saw his smile widen. Ray’s arms came down on top of his and they stood breathing together for a moment.

 

“You should get in the shower,” Ray said eventually.

“You should come in with me.”

“I can do that,” Ray said, as their eyes met in the mirror again.

         

* * *

 

 

They drove out to Cameron Falls at mid-morning and walked a fraction of the hike he and Ray had covered in the summer. Damian had muttered to them while Barbara was out of earshot:

“Her hip’s bothering her - she won’t want to make a fuss, but let’s take it easy can we, boys?”

So Ben had left the 4x4 at the head of the trail and given Barbara his arm down the steep path. His own mother would have been about Barbara’s age now, he thought, had she lived. Perhaps her hip would have bothered her too – life in the far north was hard, after all. But he couldn’t picture it: in his memories of her, she was younger than he was now. Would his father have had the tact to request a shorter walk for her sake? Perhaps he would have done. He might have been quite a different person, as a long-married man -  _Ben_ might have been quite a different person, for that matter. But Ben had almost no memories of his parents together, and his imagination balked at the task of picturing them alive and in old age, let alone the different direction his own life might have taken.

He wasn’t altogether surprised to see his father fishing in the pool at the foot of the falls. He raised a jovial hand and reeled in his line when he saw them coming.

“That’s a smart move son. Learn from my mistakes and get on the good side of your mother in law from the start. Your grandmother Emma never did warm to me, don’t know for the life of me what I did to put her back up. Dare say your mother knows but I don’t like to rake up old history – bygones be bygones, eh? But between you and me she was a difficult woman to get along with – frightened the life out of me, if you must know.” Ben did not feel he must know, but now the story had begun he was undeniably curious. “I know one mustn’t speak ill of the dead, but…”

“You’re dead too, dad – doesn’t that level the playing field?”

“So it does, son; so it does. Well, never mind about your grandmother now – you’re doing splendidly. I told you they liked you – you know, I’m not sure you need my help at all.”

Ben refrained from giving the obvious answer.

“No, you’ve been invaluable, dad. Really,” he said.

“Really? Well, I know we didn’t get to do this sort of thing when I was alive, so…” Ben wasn’t sure what sort of thing that might be, precisely – the helping, or meeting the man he was in love with – but either way it was indisputable there had been little of it.

“Would you look at that!” his father exclaimed as Damian Kowalski sent a stone skimming clear across the width of the pool and clattering into the rocks on the far side. “Quite a talent the man’s got there. I’ve got the hand and eye of a hunter and even I can’t clear that pool!” He shook his head in admiration.

Ray had slipped his glasses on and was poised to throw at his father’s side. He looked up at Ben for a second, then his stone was skipping across the water, leaving a wake of perfect circles that disappeared as soon as they formed.

“Hmm. He’s got a good arm on him too. Not as good as his father, mind you…” Ben knew better than to rise to any challenge that may or may not have been hiding behind that statement. Because when a man started overreacting to a ghost who might very well be a figment of his own imagination, it really was time to worry.

“Yes, it must be a family trait,” he said instead.

“You should ask him to show you how he does it. His father, I mean. He’ll appreciate that. Man his age, likes to think you young bucks still have something to learn from him.”

Ben turned to look him full in the face.

“Really, dad?”

“Go on, son. You’ll thank me for it later. Years to come, you’ll be able to say you listened to what the old man had to tell me, showed respect to your elders, bit your tongue when you might have wanted to say something,” – Ben could certainly relate to that feeling – “And whatever else you and your Yank find to fight about, he’ll not be able to say you never made an effort to get on with his parents.”

Ben was beginning to sense that the line between self-recrimination and advice for the future was a finer one that he had realised, and judged it best not to argue. “My _Yank_ has a name, dad, but alright. Thanks for the advice,” he said, and went down to join Ray and Damian at the water’s edge and learn how to skim a stone all the way across the pool.

Behind him he heard his father continue, "The only advice I got when I married your mother was 'never forget that sausages have three sides'. Never could figure out what that was supposed to mean - perhaps it'll mean something to you..."

 

                                                                        ***       ***        ***

 

They let Damian take charge of the small cooking fire once Ray had got it going, and Barbara waved them away and insisted on getting lunch ready.

“We did this three times a day for two months when we were travelling, mom,” Ray protested. “We know what we’re doing.”

“Oh I’m sure you do, Stanley, but I like cooking for you boys.”

“I’m 37!” He pointed at Ben. “He’s 38!” Ben spread his hands apologetically.

“Of course you are,” she said, and leaned over and kissed Ray’s cheek. Ray didn’t have anything to say to that, so they let themselves be cooked for.

 

 

The sun gave off less warmth at this time of year, and they sat close around the fire to drink their coffee after they’d eaten.

“Ah, this is the life,” said Damian, leaning back on his elbows. “It’s a fine part of the world.”

Ben dared a glance at Ray, saw him share a smile with his mother.

“Yeah, well don’t go telling everybody, we don’t want the place getting full up with Americans,” he said.

“Oh I don’t know, Ray - the _right_ Americans are always very welcome. You’re certainly an asset to the community.”

Ray didn’t blush but he dipped his head to hide his smile, and it was almost physically painful for Ben not to reach out to him. They were already sitting shoulder to shoulder and whatever Ray’s parents might know already, he didn’t think he could trust himself to stay this close but no closer.

He cleared his throat and stood up.

“Well, I’ll just wash these things - ” he gestured towards the fast flowing water.

“Let me give you a hand, Ben,” said Barbara, making to stand too.

“No, mom - ” Ray scrambled to his feet first, taking the plate from her. “You cooked. And you’re company - we got it. Me and Ben got a system for this...” Ben snorted, because it wasn’t so much a _system_ as one of those arguments that never, ever got resolved, and Ray elbowed him in the ribs without even looking.

 

 

“This is weird,” said Ray cheerfully as they washed plates in the fast-flowing water at the far end of the pool, out of earshot of where his parents sipped coffee by the fire. “Cool, but weird. My dad loved all that stone-skimming sensei stuff, and the fire – you’re like his favourite person in the world now. Like, he almost approves of me ‘cause of you, which is not exactly how I was expecting this to go, but hey, I ain’t complaining.”

“I think he approves of you because you’re his son and he’s proud of you, Ray.”

“Well, maybe he’s come round some, the last couple years, but it’s still kinda like he’s looking at me with you and thinking, shit, he’s got this fine upstanding pillar of the community into him, maybe he’s not so dumb after all.”

“Yesterday he sounded very much like a man who was proud of his son, the decorated police officer who has been embraced by a new profession and a new country.”

“Huh,” Ray said, looking pleased. “That sounds like _you_ talking, but never mind. You’re helping, is what I meant.”

He dried his hands on his jeans and sat back. “Did you ever have that thing with your dad, where every time you see him it’s like you’re a kid again? Like, I woulda left home, got a car and an apartment and a job,” _and a wife_ , Ray didn’t say, but Ben heard it anyway, “But any time it was just me and him it’s like I was 17 years old and fighting with him about college?”

Ben sat back shoulder to shoulder with him. “Yes, I know exactly what you mean.”

“But now, when you’re around, it’s like he realises I’m a grownup all of a sudden. I dunno, maybe it’s me not him, like, I’m doing what I want and not hiding anything anymore...” He nudged Ben’s foot with his own. “Hey. You ever do meeting the parents before?”

The temptation was there to say that, yes, of course, he’d met plenty of parents. But that was the cowardly answer, and when was Ray ever cowardly with him?

“No. Never,” he said.

“Well, you’re a natural. Which I guess ain’t a surprise. I mean, you’re good at this sort of thing.”

“I am?”

“Yeah. Being friendly to people, and then they like you. Only you don’t do it on purpose, it’s just you being you.”

He wasn’t sure if that was true, but he couldn’t help but like this version of him that Ray described. If he was likeable, perhaps it was Ray’s influence.

Ray tossed a tiny stone into the water. “This must be kinda weird for you though, huh?”

Ray seemed to take feeling weird for granted, so he didn’t bother to deny it this time. “A little, I suppose. Yesterday especially,” he admitted. “I guess, seeing you with your parents…when my own, well - ”

“Yeah, that’s what I meant.”

“Oh.” He looked at Ray. Ray met his gaze, clear-eyed. “You know, I don’t remember very much about my mother, but sometimes I remember my father so clearly it’s as if I can actually hear him speaking to me.”

He carefully didn’t look over to where his father had been fishing, just in case.

“Yeah? What does he say?” Ray asked, like it was the most normal thing in the world to hear your dead father’s voice.

“Oh, you know. Advice. Advice I don’t need. Advice I do - ” he cleared his throat. “Relationship advice, actually. So I suppose if my subconscious is sending me paternal advice on the subject, it’s a sign that I need it…”

“I dunno about that. Sometimes my subconscious sends me dreams about these giant turtles in the kitchen, but that don’t necessarily mean I need ‘em.”

“Yes, well, the subconscious can be quite oblique in its messages, can’t it?””

“Oh yeah. My subconscious is all kinds of oblique these days.” Ray turned a pebble around in his fingers. “Feels kinda dumb, that I went 10 years not talking to my dad, when you…”

“I can’t hold myself up as any kind of example in that respect, Ray. We didn’t – I hadn’t - ”

“Yeah, well. It ain’t easy, sometimes.” Ray let the stone drop out of his hand. “Where are they buried, your parents?”

“Up near Inuvik.”

“You ever go?”

“Not for a long time, no.”

Ray nodded and picked up another pebble. He glanced over his shoulder and slung a companionable arm round Ben’s neck, pulling him close in a loose headlock. He must have expected Ben to shrug him off, but Ben surprised them both by relaxing into it, letting Ray take his weight so that for a second they almost toppled over. Then Ray shifted and his other arm came round Ben as well.

“We could go sometime. So you can introduce me. If you want.”

Something about that made his eyes sting, and he made a small sound of agreement into Ray’s chest rather than trust his voice.

           

                                                                                 ***        ***        ***

 

Ben’s father reappeared as they were packing up.

“Psst, Benton!” he called, beckoning Ben over. Why he persisted in the charade of discretion when it was obvious to both of them that nobody else could see or hear him Ben did not know, although given the possibility that his father was a manifestation of his own psyche, he felt he _should_.

As he approached his father held out an envelope.

“Your mother’s advice. Looks to me like you’ve got everything under control here, but a man never knows with these things. One innocent observation, somebody flies off the handle – I tell you, sleeping out with the dogs is sometimes the only way of keeping the peace to _my_ way of thinking, but obviously your mother sees the world differently to you and I. You could do worse than listen to her next time you put your foot in it.”

“I - ” Ben began.

“Oh, don’t take it like that, son. Men like us shouldn’t be too proud to admit that some things don’t come naturally to us. _You_ know.”

“I know, dad,” he said, tucking the envelope carefully inside his jacket and turning to help Ray with the gear.

 “Oh, son – one more thing…”

His father held his hand out again and dropped a warm stone into Ben’s palm.

“Looks like a grizzly, see?”

Ben examined it. “So it does. _Ursus arctos horribilis,_ if I’m not mistaken.”

“Hmm. Could be _ursus americanus_. It’s hard to be sure, I grant you, but…”

They both contemplated it for a moment.

“Well, either way. Thanks, dad.”

“Oh, don’t mention it, son, don’t mention it. I thought your Yank – Ray, isn’t it? – I thought he might - ”

“I’ll give it to him. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the thought.”

“Alright then.”

“Alright.”

                                                                     

* * *

 

 

He hadn’t thought he touched Ray all that much in the course of a normal day. But now that Ray’s parents were here, in need of shielding from the detail of what their son might do with his partner (and Ben was _absolutely_ on board with shielding all of their parents from such things – he was surprised at his own short-sightedness in not having thought of it himself. His own father twinkling at him was bad enough; should Ray’s parents join in, the mortification might actually kill him), he found it a struggle to keep his hands to himself. Being discrete in town for a few hours was quite a different thing to restraining himself for entire days, in their own house.

So as soon as the front door had closed behind the Kowalskis for the night, he was pressed up against Ray’s back before Ray had had a chance turn around; arms round him, chin resting on his shoulder as he breathed in the smell of him.

Ray huffed out a laugh and put his arms over Ben’s.

“Yeah, me too,” he said, steering them into the kitchen. “I need a beer. You wanna beer?”

“No, thank you.”

Ray seemed happy enough to shuffle along with Ben wrapped around him, so Ben didn’t let go, just matched his step to Ray’s like a slow, inelegant dance. He didn’t let go when Ray bent to grab a bottle from a lower shelf, and Ray didn’t seem to mind that either. He nudged the door shut with his foot and tilted his head so Ben could see his grin as he pushed his ass back.

“Like that, is it?”

“Like what, Ray?”

He pushed back again and this time Ben felt the stone in his pocket press uncomfortably into the top of his thigh.

“Oh! Oh, well, now that you mention it that’s an excellent idea, but just let me…” he wriggled a hand between them and pulled out the stone shaped like a bear.

He held it out in front of Ray. “Looks like a bear,” he said. “Well, an unfortunate mutant bear, but still a bear.”

Ray took the warm stone from him, leaned his head back on Ben’s shoulder and inspected it critically.

“Yeah. Unfortunate mutant bear. Definitely. What do you think, is it, uh, a mutant grizzly or a mutant polar bear?”

“Hmm. Grizzly, I’d say. Look at the ears.”

Ray studied the nonexistent ears carefully. “You’re a freak, Ben. You know that, right?”

“Right you are, Ray.”

Ray turned in his arms then and kissed him. He tasted of hops and the beer bottle rested cool against the back of Ben’s neck.

They stood there in the quiet hum of the fridge and kissed for a long time.

 

Eventually Ray pulled back and looked at him, his face flushed and lips swollen with kissing.

“So you takin’ me to bed, or what?” Ray’s voice had gone low, the way it did in the dark when they were alone.

“I assume that’s a rhetorical question, Ray.”

 “No, real question – I was _totally_ down with the bathroom, so if you wanted to do it there again…”

“Oh God, _Ray_ …” he groaned, feeling himself flush at the memory and pulling Ray against him with growing urgency. “I want to do it with you _everywhere_ , but I’m afraid we might not get the security deposit back if we damage the bathroom fittings.”

“Yeah well, life’s a series of calculated risks, right?”

“Mm, indeed it is. Although I suppose if we _bought_ a house someday, then we could damage all the bathroom fittings we wanted….”

“Oh yeah, well that’s every guy’s dream, ain’t it? Own your own home, break the sink fucking up against it.”

And then they were kissing in earnest, so Ben pulled the beer and the stone shaped like a bear out of Ray’s hands and pushed him towards the stairs to decide _in situ_ whether they were going to fuck in bed or up against the sink, security deposit be damned.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There! I promised I wouldn't leave Ray and Fraser mid-fight, and despite the best efforts of my small children to stay awake ALL NIGHT and stop me posting the second half, here it is. This sort of thing counts as an achievement in my life right now, ok? Right. Ok. You're welcome. 
> 
> (My author's notes aren't getting any less defensive, are they? Ah well.)

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 is written, masterfully betaed and currently being fine-tuned with a view to posting next week. If anybody cares. (Ooh, needy, any? Go, me! Beg for approval from people on the Internet!)


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